Kenta walked beside Hemlock at an easy, unhurried pace, hands tucked loosely into his sleeves as if he had nowhere in particular to be.
The streets of Hamone City stretched wide around them, now fully awake with life. Merchants called out from stalls packed tight along the roadside, their voices blending into a constant hum of trade and chatter. Foot traffic moved in waves, people brushing past one another with practiced indifference, while the distant clang of metal and carriage wheels echoed through the city.
Kenta's gaze drifted lazily from one sight to the next. A vendor flipping skewers over a small flame. A pair of children weaving through the crowd. A cloaked figure lingering just a little too long in the same spot. His eyes lingered there for half a second before moving on.
"So," Kenta said casually, breaking the silence between them. "What should I expect from your boss?"
Hemlock didn't answer right away. His eyes scanned the crowd, sharper and more deliberate than Kenta's wandering gaze. When he finally spoke, his voice was low.
"You should be quiet."
Kenta glanced at him, unphased.
"That's not very helpful."
"I'm serious," Hemlock muttered. "Like I said before, there are eyes everywhere."
Kenta let out a small breath through his nose, almost a laugh. "Who cares?" he said. "It's not like anything we say right now is gonna reach your captain before we do."
Hemlock's expression tightened slightly, but he didn't interrupt.
"Besides," Kenta went on, his tone still light, "if they become too much of a problem, I'll just drop them."
Hemlock stopped walking for half a step, then continued, shaking his head under his breath. "You are just unbelievable..."
Kenta looked at him sideways. "What did I even do?"
Hemlock let out a long, tired sigh. "Fine," he said. "I've given up trying to reason with you."
He glanced over at Kenta, eyes narrowing slightly.
"You are, without a doubt, the most insane man I've ever met."
Kenta grinned faintly. "Is that so?"
"Yes," Hemlock said flatly. "By a wide margin."
They walked a few more steps in silence before Hemlock sighed again, like he was already exhausted by what was coming next.
"My captain..." he started, then paused, choosing his words. "He's a real devious bastard."
Kenta tilted his head slightly, interest piqued. "So you've already expressed, now expand."
"His name is Hanko Demitri," Hemlock continued. "Captain of the Haven Syndicate's Intelligence Division."
Kenta nodded once, committing the name to memory. "Intelligence, huh?"
Hemlock gave a quiet scoff. "The only reason he even took that position is because he thought it'd be less work than leading one of the other divisions. That's at least what he told me."
Kenta raised an eyebrow. "Seriously?"
"He takes absolutely nothing seriously," Hemlock said. "You'll see. Most of his time is spent gambling or... indulging himself."
Kenta smirked. "Indulging how?"
Hemlock shot him a brief look.
"He owns a brothel," he said bluntly. "Spends more time there than anywhere else."
Kenta hummed, nodding slowly. "I figured something like that would fall under your group's business division you mentioned."
"It did," Hemlock replied. "At one point."
Kenta glanced at him again. "What changed?"
Hemlock's expression didn't shift much, but there was a faint hint of irritation in his voice. "The business captain is just as much of a gambler as Hanko. Maybe worse. Lost a bet."
Kenta blinked once. "You're kidding."
"No," Hemlock said. "One night. One bet. Lost one of his brothels to Hanko."
There was a brief pause before Kenta asked, "So that's where we're heading?"
Hemlock nodded. "Yeah. That's exactly where we're heading." He glanced ahead, eyes narrowing slightly as if already picturing it. "He's almost always there. Especially this early in the morning."
Kenta looked at him with a small frown. "Early morning, huh? What, breakfast and entertainment?"
"Something like that," Hemlock said dryly.
They continued walking, weaving through the crowded streets. The buildings began to shift subtly as they moved deeper into the city. Shops gave way to more lavish establishments, the architecture growing more ornate, more indulgent. Colors grew richer, banners hung from windows, and the crowd itself began to change. Fewer laborers, more well-dressed patrons. More guards as well.
Kenta noticed that. Of course he did. Eventually, Hemlock slowed.
"There," he said quietly.
Kenta followed his gaze. The building stood out immediately.
Three stories tall, painted a deep, almost gaudy purple that clashed just enough with its surroundings to draw attention. The windows were lined with silk curtains, some partially drawn, others open just enough to hint at movement inside. The entrance was wide, welcoming, and busy.
Men moved in and out in a steady stream. Some laughing. Some quiet. Most with the same satisfied, careless expressions.
Kenta stared at it for a moment, then shook his head slightly. "Yeah..." he muttered. "I've always hated places like this."
Hemlock glanced at him. "Most people don't."
Kenta's eyes lingered on the doorway. "That's the problem."
Hemlock didn't respond right away. His gaze shifted toward the people entering and leaving, his expression hardening just a little.
"The Syndicate traffics women into places like this all across the city," he said after a moment. His voice was quieter now, more serious. "Some come willingly. Most don't."
Kenta didn't say anything.
"It's disgusting," Hemlock continued. "But... it's how things have always been here."
He exhaled slowly. "As long as I've been alive, this is what Hamone's been under, as long as there's been the Haven Syndicate."
Kenta finally looked at him as Hemlock continued.
"They've got everyone in power in their pocket. Officials. Guards. Merchants. Even the lord of the city."
His jaw tightened slightly. "They control everything. Do whatever they want. No consequences."
Kenta let that sit for a second. Then he gave a small nod.
"Well," he said, tone light again, "a consequence is about to come knocking."
Hemlock glanced at him, studying his face like he was trying to figure out if he was joking. Kenta didn't look like he was. Kenta shifted his weight slightly, then jerked his chin toward the entrance.
"You coming in with me?"
Hemlock blinked, caught off guard. One eyebrow lifted. "I'm surprised you're even asking."
Kenta shrugged. "Figured I'd give you the option."
"Since when do people in positions like mine get options?" Hemlock asked.
"Since now," Kenta said. Then, after a beat, "If you're still worried, you can go hide somewhere."
Hemlock looked around the street. Really looked this time. A couple of men are standing across the way, pretending not to stare. A figure leaning against a wall just a bit too casually. Movement behind a window that stilled the moment his gaze brushed past it. He exhaled slowly.
"It doesn't matter," he said. "I was definitely spotted bringing you here."
Kenta smiled faintly. "Yeah, probably."
Hemlock shook his head. "If I run, I'm screwed. If I stay..." He glanced at the brothel, then back at Kenta. "...I'm probably still screwed."
"There's that pessimistic mindset," Kenta said.
Hemlock let out one last sigh, longer than the others. Then he straightened slightly.
"I'm coming with you."
Kenta's grin widened just a little.
"Good," he said. "Great even."
His tone shifted, just barely. Still calm. Still casual.
But there was something sharper underneath it now.
"Stay behind me."
Hemlock didn't argue.
Kenta stepped forward first, moving toward the entrance like he was just another customer walking in for a morning visit. The noise of the street faded slightly as they approached, replaced by softer sounds drifting from inside. Music. Laughter. The low murmur of voices.
Hemlock followed half a step behind, eyes alert, shoulders tense. Kenta, on the other hand, looked completely at ease. Like he was walking into nothing more than another ordinary stop on the road. Together, they crossed the threshold and entered the brothel.